Are you disoriented too? Stumbling in absolute darkness as you walk through unfamiliar roads, desperately hoping for them to lead you somewhere known. You’re exhausted, it’s been a long day, a long life, and you don’t see any beacon of light in the vicinity. You wearily go through every inch of the map but still stand there lost. Because sometimes, its more a feeling than a place, this thing called home.
Four walls that hold a roof above the people you’re related to. Yes, such a place could be called a home. Sometimes it’s just a giant box filled with memories of yesteryear. But home is more than just an entity constructed out of bricks. It stretches beyond the physical realm. It is intangible, but real nonetheless.
It is the slow radiating light that dispels all the shadows that has ever touched upon your life. The gentle warm fingers that’ll pry you away from the tight grip of cold loneliness. Often, it is found momentarily. In a pair of eyes that gently look with no trace of judgment. In a smile that quietly whispers that it understands. Once in a while, home is experienced in the few seconds that a warm hug lasts, making you feel protected from all things in the world that could possibly hurt.
Home is any place where all that you are, is welcomed with open arms. Where you are not required to shrink yourself to fit. You don’t have to hide your ugliness under layers and layers of pretend perfection. Where constant vigilance is not needed and you are free to drop the fear and remove the mask. Your mistakes and accidental words will not be held against you. And your flaws will not be reiterated until they’re impressed upon the ridges of your brain. Where you’d no more be a burden, but in fact be cherished as a gift. You won’t be just another space occupied by matter. You and every aspect of your being would matter. And finally, love will replace all the indifference your life has been filled with.
Isn’t that what we all yearn for, at the end of the day? Some place where we’d be enough?
But I fear I’d never discover this place. What if it is only found in fleeting moments that never turn into an eternity? Or worse, what if home is merely a construct that exists only in the confines of our minds? We could all be walking in never ending circles, completely missing the reality of it all, searching for something that doesn’t even exist.
At least, it’s not just you or just me, in this quest for an abode. It’s all of us. We might all be alone in our fears, each fighting a war that the other is unaware of. Our paths might be different, and we might end up making homes out of different things, but until then, know that I am as lost as you are. I too continue to constantly run away from this emptiness that threatens to engulf me. I want to go home, as badly as you do. Our only comfort, until we all go home, remains in the thought that although we are all alone, we are all together in our aloneness.